A Spoonful Of Sugar Can Be Medicine, Too

RAY RECCHI

As I lay in a hospital bed with a neat line of staples in my belly, a few unexpected visitors arrived.

It was a delegation from the boys` soccer team I co-coached that year. Bearing a gift and card, they hoped to cheer me up with some great news.

Because gallbladder surgery had prevented me from attending our game that day, they had dedicated it to me. Better yet, they had managed to eke out a tie.

Sure, a lot of people might not consider that such a wonderful tribute. But I loved it. Although they were among the nicest bunch of kids I ever coached, they were not particularly good at soccer. And, truth to tell, their coaches were not very adept, either. Up to that point, we had lost every game, most of them by wide margins.

So achieving a tie in a game dedicated to me was quite an honor indeed. (In fact, when the season ended, that tie stood as our only non-losing effort of the year.)

We laughed about our lone tie game. And when they left, I felt better -- not well enough to pull the needles out of my arm, leap out of bed and turn a few cartwheels, mind you. But better.

So I don`t think it would be erroneous to classify their visit as medicinal.

A FRIENDLY FACE CAN HELP

Of course, the concept that not all medicine has to come in a pill, capsule, bottle or syringe is neither new nor drastic. Doctors sometimes recommend a vacation, for example, to patients who are in need of rest, a slower pace or a change of perspective.

What`s more, it is not exactly heresy to believe that the will to recover -- or to live -- is an important factor in the healing process.

In no way do I mean to imply that such non-traditional ``medicines`` should replace standard medical practices -- only that they can supplement and complement them.

A study of pediatrics patients published last year, for example, stated that ``more than 99 percent of children between the ages of 9 and 12 reported that the `thing that helped most` was to have their parents present during a painful procedure.``

It makes sense to me. Having Mom or Dad in the room is reassuring.

As logical as it seems, however, it doesn`t make sense to a lot of people who should know better. That same article, in the journal Pediatrics, indicated that parents were not present more than one-third of the time, often because doctors had sent them away or merely closed curtains around the bed.

The narrow view of medicine only as something that can be swallowed or injected is apparently the view of the United Nations and U.S. Customs, too.

FOOLISHNESS IS UNBEARABLE

As I write this, more than 2,000 teddy bears are being detained at Los Angeles International Airport because they have been classified as contraband by the United Nations and U.S. Customs.

The stuffed animals, meant for sick and dying children in Iraq, were collected by Dianne Judice, a nurse who had visited Iraq and was touched by the plight of the children there. She also collected traditional medicine as well as blankets and clothing.

The medicine went out. But not the blankets, clothing or teddy bears, which were said to violate the trade embargo stemming from Iraq`s invasion of Kuwait.

Efforts by Judice and Catholic Relief to have the those items classified as medicine have been rebuffed.

But Judice makes a lot of sense when she says: ``In every hospital in our country, you go in and you see children holding teddy bears. They are medicinal because they provide comfort to sick and dying children.``

It is beyond ludicrous to believe that teddy bears and children`s clothing could in any way aid Saddam Hussein or what`s left of his military machine, a fact that prompts Judice to ask, ``Who are we trying to punish?``